


Part of the Role Description

by MistressKat



Category: Primeval
Genre: Academia, Conference Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 22:45:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13258182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/pseuds/MistressKat
Summary: The conference experience with Nick Cutter.





	Part of the Role Description

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goldarrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldarrow/gifts).



> Written as a fandom_stocking gift for goldarrow. I hope this hits your fic likes for on-duty and off-duty shenanigans... It got a little more melancholy at the end than I anticipated, sorry!

"This is ridiculous," Nick says. For about twentieth time. Except the first nineteen also included some rather impolite and evolutionarily implausible things about the Dean's parentage. He had not seen the humour in Stephen pointing that out either.  
  
"It's just a conference," Stephen replies, also for the twentieth time. He pulls the hotel door open and all but shoves Nick inside and toward the reception desk. "Remember those? You show up, say some brilliant stuff, enjoy a free meal, go home."  
  
"But the anomaly..." Nick blusters.  
  
"Hi there!" Stephen smiles at the receptionist brightly. "Hart and Cutter, checking in."  
  
"The Dean doesn't know about the anomaly," he hisses at Nick as soon as the receptionist has turned to the computer. "The Dean cares about his senior faculty members doing their fair share of academic glad-handing and posturing, all part of earning your pay, which I hear ain't anything to sneer at!"  
  
Nick blinks at him, mouth snapping shut. Well, good. Stephen was frankly getting sick of the topic. Shepherding Cutter might be part of his role description – well, the unofficial one anyway but that was far more accurate than whatever it said in his actual contract – but there were limits. And lately, Stephen has been skirting perilously close to all sorts of lines.  
  
"Here you go, gentlemen. Enjoy your stay!" The receptionist hands them key cards, her smile wavering only a fraction when Stephen snatches them both before propelling Nick toward the lifts.  
  
"What's gotten into you?" Nick gives him a sideways glance through the mirror as they wait for the lift to climb to their floor.  
  
"Nothing yet," Stephen mutters, resisting the urge to follow up with something crude but truthful, and settles on "Hell of a lot of shrimp puffs as soon as we hit the welcome buffet, hopefully," instead.  
  
  
***  
  
  
"I love conferences!" Nick explains to the wall next to their room door some eight hours later. "I seriously... Hey, have I told you?" He turns clumsily to regard Stephen who is trying to dig out the key card from his wallet. "That I love conferences?"  
  
"No," Stephen answers sarcastically, "you haven't. How is it that you feel about them?" He manages to get the door open, both of them stumbling through. Stephen isn't nearly as drunk as Nick, but considering Nick is pretty fucking shit-faced that doesn't mean much.  
  
"I love... _Ooof!_ " Nick bounces of the mattress lightly as Stephen deposits him on one of the twin beds none too gently. The Dean may think this conference is important enough for both of them to attend but savings are still savings and one room is cheaper than two. "I love them," he mutters, face smushed against the covers. "I get to see Roger! And Anita and Ben! Did I introduce you?"  
  
"Yes," Stephen says from his own bed. "Three times." Nick's old uni mates had been most amused.  
  
"Also, I love those little mini-quiche things. And the bar!" There's a grunt and a shuffle of bed clothes that indicates Cutter is trying to achieve a vertical position against all advice Stephen is actually too tired to voice.  
  
"Yeah, you sure loved the complimentary bar." He doesn't really have a leg to stand on here – hah, kind of literally at the moment – because he'd made quite a few trips there himself. It's been that kind of year. For both of them, Stephen acknowledges silently. So maybe the anomaly free weekend and conference-shaped distraction was exactly what the doctor ordered.  
  
He sniggers. "Hey. What's Rawlings' PhD in?" he asks.  
  
"What? The Dean?" There's a groan, three unsteady steps, and then Nick collapses onto Stephen's bed, mostly next to him but partly on him. "I don't... Something about plants? Like... apples, I think?" His face swims into Stephen's line of sight. "Why's that?"  
  
"Never mind." Stephen waves a hand, tries to ignore the way Nick's is curved around his ribcage for balance as he holds himself up on one elbow. "Sleep time now," he suggests. "You've got a seminar in the morning." Not one that either of them is due to speak at thankfully, which means they are unlikely to even try to make it.  
  
"Alright." Nick nods agreeably. But instead stumbling to his own bed he simply lies down next to Stephen, arm still thrown over his middle.  
  
Stephen watches the slow spin of the ceiling and breathes through the all too familiar coil of want tightening in his gut. This too is part of the conference experience with Nick Cutter.  
  
"Stephen?" Nick asks after long minutes. He sounds half-asleep and quite frankly Stephen is surprised either of them is still conscious.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Just wanted to say thanks," Nick murmurs, his voice low and rough and stupidly, painfully, intimate. "For sticking around."  
  
Stephen feels his breath catch, Nick's hand on his chest momentarily stilling its gentle up-and-down rhythm. There are a dozen answers to that, ranging from simple _'you're welcome'_ to the more truthful, and more revealing ones like _'always'_ and _'let me'_ but Stephen can't force any of them past the sudden lump in his throat.  
  
By the time he gathers enough courage to turn his head to at least look at Nick, the other man has already fallen asleep.  
  
Stephen stares at him for a while before closing his own aching eyes. It's a three day conference. Chances are good this isn't the only time Nick is going to end in his bed.  
  
And maybe next time they'll even be sober enough to actually finish this conversation they've been having in fits and starts for a while now.    



End file.
